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SHADOW BARKED SO LOUD and long that his throat hurt. But he couldn’t stop himself. He recognized the man’s smell and his signature walk when the man followed September to where she knelt on the cold, frozen ground.
He needed to protect her but he couldn’t get out of the car, however hard he tried. If he pawed the door just right, the windows scrolled down so he could leap out. But Shadow tried every window, and nothing worked.
The man stood up, carrying a slight form. Shadow howled. September, his person, swung like a limp bear-toy over the stranger’s shoulder. He snarled until foamy saliva sprayed the windows. He leaped from the back seat to the front, around to the side passenger window, and back to the rear, so he wouldn’t lose sight. But the stranger carried September out of view.
He had to get OUT and go to her! Barking didn’t help. Scratching and paw-thumping doors only left his toes and claws bruised. Shadow sniffed each of the side panels, carefully examining the handles that somehow made doors swing open. If he couldn’t get to September through windows, he’d chew his way out.
Shadow set to work, growling under his breath, but making satisfying headway on the armrest he chose. He gnawed the covering, appreciating the give beneath his teeth. At the same time, he kept ears cocked for any danger sign in case the dangerous stranger returned.
When the man did return, moving quickly, with purpose, Shadow still hadn’t managed to breach the car door. He crouched low on the back seat. He didn’t bother barking any longer. His lifted lips and silent snarl shouted a warning anyone of intelligence understood. His hackles bristled off his shoulders, doubling his size, and his tail stirred the still air in high jerking arcs.
Ignoring Shadow’s threat, the killer drew closer and closer. Shadow increased the volume of his growls, and lunged halfway across the seat when the stranger stopped outside the window. The man brandished a gun in one hand, and something in the other.
Shadow whined. When the man pointed at him, he flinched, dodging to the far side of the car. But instead of the expected scary sound, the car made its normal beep-beep that announced the unlocking of the doors. The man opened the rear door and waved at Shadow.
“Go on, dog, get out.” His voice wheedled. “I can’t make you disappear with blood in the car. Get out, puppy, come on.”
His unctuous tone didn’t fool Shadow. The man’s stink of violence shouted DANGER louder than any rabid snarl. Shadow shrank against the far side of the vehicle, then feinted toward the man, teeth bared in defense. This car belonged to September.
The man jabbed the shovel at him.
He bit the blade. Teeth clanked on the metal beneath the clotted soil. Shadow scented September on the blade, and roared. He dodged the poking metal, leaped past it, and attacked, bright teeth aimed at the man’s face.
With a cry, the killer side-stepped. Shadow bounded by and escaped the car. He landed on the slick, snowy roadway, and whipped around, poised to renew his attack.
The shovel dropped to the roadway. The killer pointed the gun.
Shadow didn’t wait. He’d done this before on September’s command. This time, he knew what to do. He sprang high, compensating for the man’s reaction, and nose-punched the gun. It flew out of his hand, landing in deep snow on the side of the road.
Cries silenced, the man caught up the shovel and swung it while he turned in a half-circle, to keep a good-dog’s teeth at bay. Finally, he threw the shovel. When Shadow ducked, the man dove into September’s car and slammed the door.
The car tires sputtered snow in his face as it drove away. Shadow didn’t bother chasing. He had to find September.
Nose in the air, he scented deeply. He launched himself after the footsteps the killer left behind. The bad man’s scent rose in scent-cones thick and bright as neon to a good-dog’s nose. Within seconds, Shadow’s measured tread became a jog and then a gallop. September needed him.
He came to the hole dug deep in the frozen ground, and slid to a stop, sniffing the dirt. The man spent many minutes here. Shadow snuffled beside the hole, where the disturbed snow marked September’s last resting place. He whimpered. She felt near, she smelled close, but where? He lifted his head again, tasting the air, and cocked his head. Listening. In anguish, Shadow howled his fear and longing to the sky.
A moan. So very soft that only a good-dog could detect the sound... there! His head swiveled, eyes cast down into the dank, black hole. Fresh dirt below, speckling the snow with detritus. Again the moan. The dirt shifted.
Shadow leaped into the grave. Her scent surrounded him. Fear. Blood. Pain. He whimpered again, gently pawing the loose soil, then more eagerly, fiercely digging, digging, moving the wet earth off of her, finding the back of September’s hood, pawing the way clear. He grasped the fabric of her hood, pulling it down to her neck, and clawed off the funny soft-hard hat she wore beneath. He nosed her dirt-clotted cheek, whining, crying loudly, licking at her face, cold-nosing her eyes, until September blinked and she coughed.
“Baby-dog. You found me, good-dog.”
Her voice sounded funny, but he didn’t care. He woofed, tail whisking the air with joy.
“Help me, Shadow. Dig, get my arms free.” She struggled but couldn’t move more than her face. The rest of her body remained encased in the wet muck. “That’s right, Shadow, dig.”
He clawed more and more of the dirt away from her shoulders to free her arms, until September could push herself up out of the dirt. Shadow stood back, tail still waving with excitement.
She began to weep, and he whimpered, too, and pushed himself into her lap. As September’s arms hugged him tight, Shadow wagged his tail so hard it swept the dirt clear. He licked the tears from her face. They tasted like love.
